When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ VII

Paint a Face of Pain Endurance

"Give me time to realise my crimes..." Culture Club

Draco looked at Dumbledore aghast; he simply refused to believe what he was hearing. "But you surely cannot be serious! "

"Draco, please do sit down," Dumbledore said mildly, gesturing to the sofa.

"No, I shall not. Sirius Black is not a worthy teacher. The man is a beast and a bully! He may be capable of bungling his way through Defence classes, but he is not an expert in pyroclasty! You place so much concern on ensuring I am taught to 'master my gift' and yet you are placing me in the charge of someone completely devoid of any experience in the matter. It's preposterous!"

"It is quite true, Mr Malfoy, that Sirius is not pyroclastic, nor is he an expert in pyroclasty. He is, however, one of the best wizards this school has ever produced. You may not be aware, Draco, as so few people are, that Sirius Black, at the age of fifteen, became the youngest person in recorded history to master the Animagus transformation."

"Pardon?"

Snape stepped out from the shadows where he was lurking, bearing something of a Dementor-like air; "Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew broke virtually every school and Ministry rule and regulation to become Animagi. Black, being the youngest of the trio, is believed to be the youngest person to complete the process."

How typical. What a shock that Black is unregistered and rule-breaking. "And this is deemed sufficient qualification to teach me how to master pyroclasty, an entirely unconnected and infinitely more dangerous matter?" Draco scoffed. "What does he become? A salamander?"

Dumbledore ignored the comment and continued regardless. "Mr Black is assuming the role as of Wednesday, and has begun studying the phenomenon in his own time in order to give you the very best assistance we can provide. I am trusting you to be courteous, respectful and to help yourself and Sirius in any way you can. We are all making our very finest efforts to help you, and we shall continue to do so every step of the way."

"Thank you, I'm honoured," Draco replied, irritably. "Is that all you need to tell me? May I leave?"

"No." Snape sounded even more annoyed that Draco felt.

"We have some other news," Dumbledore informed him, "News which I suspect will met with considerably more pleasure."

Well whoopee. Excuse me while I dance a short polka around your desk.

"By all means, Master Malfoy, by all means," Dumbledore said, giving a small sweeping gesture around the office. "Although I would rather you heard the information I have for you before we get too carried away."

Draco just checked himself from letting his jaw drop like a stunned halibut. How...? What...?

"Mr Black also had a second purpose for visiting me this afternoon."

"Really?"

"Yes, yes indeed. He feels that you would benefit from some time spent with Harry Potter. It would seem you are more at ease in his company than in ours, which is of course greatly understandable."

"Black? Black wants me to spend time with Harry?"

"He understands, Draco, that speaking to one of your contemporaries will be more comfortable than speaking to any of us old fogeys," Dumbledore elaborated with an irritating twinkle.

Draco was too confused to respond at first. What on Earth was Black playing at? The barbarian had practically assaulted him in the town for even saying hello to Harry - now he was asking for them to spend time together! I'll talk to Harry about it, get his side of the story and then...Just leave it to me and Remus, alright? We're trying to help you, so stop fucking everything up. Was that what he had meant? Leave it to him and Lupin and they would arrange for him to spend time with Harry when it wouldn't jeopardise their plans? How very thoughtful. I still have to live in a bubble, but at least I get to spend time with their precious godson.

-but it's Harry - any excuse to spend time with Harry is a good excuse!

That's it, eat your humble pie and don't complain. What a good little Gryffindork we are...

-Oh shut up.

"When?"

"Thursday afternoons it would seem you have corresponding free periods, in which you will be free to socialise as you see fit in a room which will be allocated this evening and guarded by strong wards," Dumbledore told him, almost sounding proud of the matter.

"Only Thursdays?" Draco asked, just managing to sound neutral and not as disappointed as he felt.

"On a preliminary basis, yes, but should both of you feel the need to increase your sessions you will be more that free to do so, provided they do not impede your studies. It will be your own responsibility to ensure you remain up to date with all other commitments."

Draco nodded.

"Wonderful! Then we shall inform you as soon as our arrangements are complete," Dumbledore smiled, "You may leave."

Snape watched the boy close the door behind him with narrowed eyes. "You are making a mistake, Professor, a very grave mistake."

"I'm quite aware of your opinion, Severus," the old man replied airily, "and until such time as you are proved correct I would be rather grateful if you would accept mine."

"But -"

"Severus, should either Master Malfoy or Mister Black acquire third degree burns or be reduced to a pile of ash you will be more than welcome to dig out the old tutu and prance about the office chanting 'I told you so'. However, I would not waste time searching for it just at present as I fear it would be an inconvenience of little purpose."

Snape gritted his teeth. The old sadist always took such delight in bringing the tutu incident up. He didn't even feel it was funny any more. It was twenty years ago - surely there was no need to dance the same old dance again. He winced inwardly at the irony of the metaphor and couldn't help suspecting the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye was a confession of guilt. Severus wondered why he even bothered.

Draco couldn't decide whether to be pleased or annoyed. On the one hand he had what he wanted - permission to spend time with Harry. On the other, the fact that he actually required permission annoyed him profusely. Why should he have to bow and scrape to them purely so he could talk to another student? What right did they have to dictate his whereabouts and social circle?

He's Harry Potter - they have monopolies on him, remember? It's not about you.

- Of course it's about you! Granger and the Weasel are allowed to talk to him. It's just because it's you. You're a Malfoy and as far as they're concerned you're dangerous - even if you aren't a Death Eater.

- I'm more dangerous to myself that anyone else!

At least you got that right. They obviously don't think you're particularly powerful.

- They think I'm dangerous enough to need private lessons.

And then they'll use you to achieve what they want. Are you that naive?

- What's to say I don't want to achieve the same as them?

Pretend to yourself as much as you wish - the truth will out.3

Harry left Remus at the foot of the stone steps to the Entrance Hall and watched as the man turned towards the lake, clearly not intending to go straight home. He didn't seem very happy. He seemed worried, even - it was obvious from the way his shoulders were sloped and he couldn't seem to be bothered to hold his head up properly - it was as though the weight of the world was literally on his shoulders.

A voice behind him made Harry jump, and he had only half turned when a pair of hands clamped on to his shoulders.

"Gavin?"

"Hey - sorry, didn' mean t' frighten you..."

Harry took a quick breath and laughed. "Don't worry about it, I was just surprised, that's all."

The other boy appeared to be blushing and he gave a half smile, tucking his hair behind his ear in that terribly endearing manner he had. "I' been waitin' for you t' get back... I wan'ed t'say sorry, like - for being a bit weird earlier..."

"Oh - that's alright - and don't let Dr...Malfoy get to you, he's just talk. He doesn't even bother me, any more..."

"Good - he'd bes' not or I migh'ave t' turn that nice, glossy hair o'his pink," Gavin said firmly, a hint of a scowl on his friendly face.

For me? Woah... I wonder if he realises that'd be a suicide mission? "Well, um... thanks, but there's really no need. It's not worth the hassle you'd get."

"Yeah, well," Gavin shrugged, looking away and blushing slightly more, "I'd say it's worth it, in this case..."

Harry wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that comment, but he hoped upon hope that Gavin had meant what it sounded like he'd meant.

"Look, 'Arry..." the older boy began, seeming to scrape together some resolve and forcing himself to look Harry in the eye, "I really enjoyed t'day... 'ad a really grea' time... an' I thought, well, y'know... tha' were jus' t'say thank you, an everythin'... but I'd really like t'see you sort of... sort of... well, more... I mean... I'd like to spen' more time wi' you, is what I'm tryin' t'say..."

There is no way I just heard that correctly. No way in hell. "S-sorry?"

Gavin blushed redder. "I were tryin' to ask if..." he stopped, looking awkwardly away from him. "Oh, it don' matter... It's not import'nt... I'll jus'... sorta... go."

"No!" Harry said quickly, grabbing his arm in a moment of irrational near-panic, "No, Gavin - wait. Sorry, sorry - I just... never mind. It doesn't matter - I just wasn't sure you... I didn' think I heard you...right. That's to say..." Oh God. I'm rambling. I'm rambling! Stop! Stop it, you idiot! "I mean... I'd... um... I'd like to. See more of you. In a friendly sense - not in a physical sense! I mean - it would have to be in a physical sense because you'd physically have to be there - but I don't mean, y'know - 'physical'. Not that I wouldn't li- I mean...Um..." Oh God what the hell am I saying? He's going to hate me! He'll think I'm crazy!

"No, 'course not..." Gavin murmured, sounding slightly...disappointed?

"But I'd really like to... y'know - hang out... or something... sometimes. That is what you meant... isn't it?"

"Yes! Exac'ly! Exac'ly - hang out... or somethin'."

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Great."

"When?"

Harry was flabbergasted. When? He must be keen... Ha! Yeah, you wish, Potter. "Um... I dunno... whenever... We practise on Friday nights and Sunday afternoons, though... and I have prefects meetings and stuff sometimes... but I mean... whenever you like, really..."

"T'morrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Is tha' too soon? I mean - I don't wanna get in th' way - I jus' thought... well..."

"Tomorrow's fine! Fine. I can do tomorrow. Tomorrow - yeah, that's...absolutely fine."

Gavin beamed at him. "Brilliant. T'morrow, then. Where? An' when?"

"Um... I dunno... here?" Harry suggested, completely devoid of sensible ideas. "We can decide then..."

"Great! Wha' time?"

"Er... half past two?"

"'Alf pas' two. Right. Got it. Cool - I'll um... see you t'morrow, then?"

"Yeah."

They both stood in exactly where they were in silence.

"Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you wanna do somethin' now - 'fore House restriction..?" Gavin suggested hopefully, tucking his hair behind his ear again.

God you look so cute when you do that... Cute? I just called Gavin Cross 'cute'. Oh God. "Um... well, I can't, really - I've got some homework I should be doing for Defence Against the Dark Arts..."

"Oh." The look of disappointment on the other boy's face was absolutely heart-rending for a moment, but then his brown eyes suddenly lit up and he said, "Wait a minute - I could 'elp! I mean - if you wan' me to... It's my bes' subject! I did it all las' year, anyway, didn' I?"

"Um - I suppose so, yeah," Harry replied, turning a deeper shade of plum.

"Brilliant! Well, you go an' get your stuff an' I'll see you in th' lib'ry in a bit!"

With that he gave Harry one last joyful grin and bolted off down the corridor.

Harry dashed through the portrait hole, up to the dorm and back down again in the space of under a minute, not even leaving Ron and Hermione enough time to ask why he was in such a rush, but taking the care to grin at them as he left and explain, "Can't stop - gotta get to the library... Gavin's meeting me there!" before he disappeared.

In fact, Harry didn't stop running until he reached the corner before the library, where he paused to catch his breath, not wanting to appear too eager, and attempted to flatten his hair slightly - to absolutely no avail. Just as he took a last deep breath and turned the corner, finding it impossible to repress an insane grin, he bumped into a couple of Ravenclaw fourth years who stared at him oddly and shrugged at each other as if bemused by his expression. Harry was far too wound up with nervous energy to pay much attention.

When Harry walked (an action which took a lot of will power on his part, as his legs seemed desperate to sprint) into the vast, shelf-lined room he initially began to think he'd hurried in vain - the Ravenclaw was no where to be seen; but when he reached the final isle, tucked away near the back, his disappointment lifted instantly. Gavin sat facing the window, a large pile of books at his elbow and a number of scrolls in front of him, which he was avidly pawing over and going through, muttering to himself quietly.

"That was quick," Harry said, grinning and dumping his own bag on the table, which gave the other boy such a fright he sent all his books and scrolls of parchment tumbling noisily to the floor.

"You were quick!" he mumbled, and promptly turned red, bowing to collect the books and scrolls from the floor. Harry crouched to help and placed some back on the table before bowing down again at exactly the same time as Gavin sat up - knocking their heads together and almost knocking them both out. "Oh God - 'Arry, I'm so sorry! Are y'alright? I didn' 'urt you, did I?" he said quickly, grabbing at the Gryffindor's arm to stop him over balancing into the shelves behind him.

"Ugg..." Harry murmured, shaking his head roughly, "Ooh... um - I actually feel quite dizzy..."

"I'd best take you t'th' 'ospital wing. Tha's th' second knock you 'ad today..." the other boys said, worriedly, standing up and putting an arm around his shoulders to steady him.

"Hospital wing? No - um... I'll be okay. Honestly."

Gavin looked at him dubiously. "I really don' know, 'Arry - I think you should pro'lly see Madam Pomfrey or somethin'..."

"Madam Pomfrey'll just shove lots of horrible potions and enough chocolate to choke a large hippo in my mouth... there's no point. I'm honestly fine. Really - let's just get down to it..."

For some reason, Gavin turned even redder at that.

Harry sat down and began to unroll his parchment. "We've got to collect a list of curses - ten in all - and describe how they're used and what for. What they do - stuff like that... We get ten points for every curse we find that no one else got."

"Oh, really? Tha's quite good... I know a few curses already, ach'lly..."

"Do you? I mean - I know you must do and everything, but what sort of curses?"

Gavin shrugged and tucked his hair behind his ear. "Well, y'know - jus' from books an' stuff. I always had an in'trest in stuff like that, really..."

"Well, I've had to learn a few in the past... for the Tournament, mainly..."

"I bet you did..." Gavin murmured, reaching out a hand and placing it on his shoulder, gently, as though subtly offering his condolences.

"But anyway," Harry said, quickly moving on to avoid the pity he knew was coming next, "I need new ones because Sirius knows which curses I already know. Mostly because I've used all of them on him at some point for stealing my breakfast..."

Gavin laughed and lowered his hand back to the table, picking up some parchment. "Righ', well, first off, I think you'd like the ... Hallitotum! Hallitotum is this really nasty curse where th' victim's breath gets instan'ly so bad they an' anyone close enough jus' passes out - like that!" he clicked his fingers with a grin.

Harry laughed. "That sounds...pleasant."

"Not at all - but then, tha's th' point, innet?"

"Okay," Harry grinned, "So when would you use that?"

"Well, you tell me - 's your 'omework!"

"Alright... um... so you could use that one when... when you just need to stun a large group of people for a short time...?"

"Bingo," Gavin replied, patting his shoulder, "See - 's 'not 'ard, is it?"

"No."

"Right, so, nex' one... lemme think..."

"Do you know any really horrible ones?" Harry asked suddenly, not sure what had even spurred him to voice the question.

"Really 'orrible?" Gavin echoed, grimacing slightly. "Well, I mean - I know some I would be really 'fraid of..."

"Like what?" Harry asked with interest, sweeping a few pieces of parchment out of the way so he could sit nearer.

"Well... like Impedimenta Solaris, which is this really evil curse tha' you can' ever recover from."

"What does it do?"

"Blinds you. It's known as th' Curse o' a Thousan' Suns. It has all the light of the Sun as we see it, timed by loads - pro'lly not a thousan' but you get the idea - an' if you catch one o' them in the face you're basic'ly done for. You'll never see again."

"God..." Harry murmured, "Can you imagine what it'd be like to be blind? I mean... you couldn't read or write properly or play Quidditch or even really fly... I'd hate not to be able to fly anymore..."

"I know, me either... but imagine all the fantastic things - all the things that make you happy just by looking at them - that you would never see again..." He scanned Harry's face before settling his gaze on his wide green eyes. "I know it's that sort of thing I'd miss the most." He looked down at the desk and prodded at it with the tip of a quill he was fiddling with.

"I just literally can't imagine it. I mean - how would you cope? How would you get around? And what would it be like to be in constant darkness? Or do they see colours? It's... weird."

"Here-" Gavin said, putting down the quill and shifting his chair so he was sitting almost behind him. "Take y' glasses off a sec." Harry did as he was told and the other boy gently pressed his hands over Harry's closed lids. "How's that feel?" he asked quietly.

For a moment Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He was too concerned with what was going on in his stomach to take much notice of what was going on in front of his eyes. "Um... it feels... strange."

"Good-strange or bad-strange?"

"I don't know..." Harry mumbled, reaching up to place his own hands over Gavin's, "I know I'm not really blind and I...well... it's your hands," he shrugged, not letting go, "it's not scary having them there or anything..." He blinked as light flooded his senses again as the other boy let go.

"Show me," he said, swivelling around in his seat so Harry could reach, "cover my eyes."

"Um... okay." Harry stood up so he could reach better and placed his palms over the Ravenclaw's own closed lids. "What do you see?"

"Nothin'..." Gavin replied slowly, "'cept darkness... just a red-tinged darkness... But I can smell somethin' really, really nice..." He caught Harry's sleeve and sniffed at it. "I thought it were you! You smell so nice..."

Harry blushed as Gavin gently ease his hands away and looked up at him. "I dunno what of - my clothes get cleaned by the house elves, just the same as yours and everyone else's..."

"Ah - well, I' must be tha' you're a saint, then. They say even saints' moldy old corpses smell o' roses..." Gavin grinned, only half humorously.

"I'm not a saint," Harry replied, tugging his hand back gently, "I'm just Harry and I wish people would stop trying to make me something more than that, sometimes. Most of the time, actually..."

"I'm sorry - I didn' mean... But you're no' jus' 'Arry - you're 'Arry the bloody brilliant Seeker an' you're 'Arry the really kind an' selfless bloke in Gryffindor an' you're 'Arry the bloke wi' the most impossibly green eyes I've ever seen - an' it's really cool!"

Harry just stood and blushed. I can't believe he's saying this stuff to me... this is so weird... but God I... Before Harry knew what he was doing was reaching out two fingers to push a stray lock of hair behind Gavin's ear and saying out loud "Well... thanks... but that's a bit ironic coming from you..."

A nano-second after he had completed the action Harry yanked his hand back in shock. Oh God what have you said, you bloody big idiot? "I... um... I think we should get back to doing my homework, now. Sirius will probably turn me into a newt as an example or something if I don't get it done..."

A flicker of a frown passed over the other boy's face and he nodded and turned back to the desk. "So, what about Dormir I Mortis?"

"The Dead Sleep?"

"Yeah... you've 'eard of it?"

"Yeah... Remus said that someone in my family was taken by it. It was my auntie Jennifer... she's in St Mungo's in an unbreakable sleep."

"Oh - Harry, I'm really sorry! I'm bloody useless a' this - keep doin' th' wrong thing, don' I?" he said, his face scrunched up with embarrassment. "I'm such a bloody 'Ufflepuff, sometimes!"

"It's okay - don't worry... I haven't even been to see her yet..." Harry said, not wanting the other boy to get upset and leave.

"Tha's 'ardly th' point, is it?"

"But you weren't to know, were you? You didn't say it to upset me. And it hasn't - honestly - it's hard to miss someone you've never known."

"Tell me about it," Gavin muttered and hesitantly reached out a hand, laying his fingers on Harry's.

Harry automatically turned over his hand and his breath hitched as Gavin laced his fingers with Harry's own. He blushed - they both did - and turned back to the homework without letting go.

~*~

Sirius sat at his bedroom window and watched Remus walk down to the lake and sit on the sloping bank. Neither of them moved for over two hours. Remus watched the water and Sirius watched Remus. They'd done as such before, many years ago. Sirius wasn't sure, now, if it had happened before or after he had kissed the fair-haired boy during the game, but he remembered clearly that the others had been off racing up and down the beach in some ridiculous torment of the girls - and in fact Sirius had been, too. Or, had had been until he realised that Remus wasn't playing. The other boy was a hundred yards away, crouching at the very edge of the beach, completely still and gazing out into the dark waters.

"Moooony-moo? What're you up to, mate? Come and play - come on!"

Remus continuing to stare into the sea. "No... I'm fine..." a light, distracted voice - almost a sigh.

Running over and collapsing onto the pebbles beside him... complaining about landing on a sharp one that left a bruise for days... "You alright, Moo? You've been really quiet."

Another sigh, Remus tilting his head to the side as though listening. "Can you hear it?"

"Um... no."

"Listen ."

Hush. Nothing but the washing of the sea against the beach, the girls' squeals and the singing of ships' rigging in the breeze, somewhere down the beach. "I don't hear-"

"She understands."

"Who?"

"The Sea."

"The Sea? Ohhh - right, yeah - sorry. Can't believe I didn't realise...Silly me."

"She does."

"I'm sure she does. Still, no more cider for you tonight, eh?"

A pale face lifted to look at the sky - the Moon. Barely a sliver of white in a vast expanse of dark, dark blue.

"You don't understand, Siri..." Remus's voice so soft... barely catching on the breeze as it danced around them. "We're both governed by the Moon. She rules the tides and she rules me. She understands"

A penny dropping. Oh yes - Remus in his murky, poetic mood. Seeing things that were beyond the power of the human eye to observe and feeling things that most sixteen year olds would scorn.

"Remus..."

"It makes sense, now."

"Sense?" Reaching out and tugging at a woollen jumper as the other boy leans precariously forward towards the shallow lapping surf. "Remus - you're not making sense."

"That's because you don't listen properly!" A smile. A strange, knowing smile... The wind blowing bits of fringe into his eyes...no glasses back then... hardly needed them...

"I don't understand you, you know..." A gentle tease. Always gentle with Remus... looks fragile enough sometimes that a laugh may break him... skin looking lilac from the slight moonlight.

"I know, Siri..." another distant smile, moving away backwards... an illusion that he is being pulled away and out of reach.

Remus looked at the water. If he had seen things from Sirius's perspective he would have realised how exactly he was echoing the position he had sat in during their game of Truth or Dare twenty years earlier. And as he rested by the lake he was replaying that very memory.

He was watching the sea. Just watching. He loved the way that she just crashed again and again onto the stones. She never gave up, even though it got her nowhere. But it was also incredibly melancholy, because it seemed to represent his own life. Constantly thrown into something against his will. At intervals sucked back and away from the one place he wanted to be and then thrown forward in a space of a few months where the Moon would seem to ease her grip on him... the wolf wouldn't be so virulent for a while, and even on moon nights he would still be Remus - a shy, intelligent teenage boy - deep down inside. Even during the change when the primal instincts crushed his humanity he felt less troubled and violent. In those times he would come out of himself... He would be happier and allow himself to integrate more fully with the rest of their peers; with normality. And then, just when he'd started to get used to it, the moon would pull harder again, and the vicious beast he had been since he was a tiny child would return with a fervent rage that he sometimes couldn't even contain when he was himself but the moon was close to full... He still couldn't.

And that night, two glorious weeks from the full, there was something in him that was stirring and clearly about to rear its ugly head...It felt like the wolf... but it wasn't. It was Sirius, in the most innocent sense. For the time they had spent at his parents' house, a week when it had been just the four of them, before everyone else arrived, he had felt so very differently. He already knew he was fond of the other boy - fond in a way that out shone his friendly adoration of James and Peter - and he had assumed for as long as he could remember that it was simply because of all of them, Sirius was the most alive; the most reckless and carefree... He was the one who made life-changing decisions on the spur of the moment, ran into danger with his eyes closed and a sixth sense to guide him. The part of Remus that wasn't human was deeply interested in the other boy. He fascinated a part of him that was best kept hidden. Two parts, in truth...

The wolf was the easier side. It benefited from the dark-haired boy's presence because it had a companion, someone it could identify with - even before he became an animagus. And the other part was the most dreaded part of any human being - the ever-fragile heart. Remus never did quite understand why the heart was said to be the home of all emotions, because most - and in particular the ones he felt in association with Sirius Black - seemed to dwell and cause havoc in his stomach. But he liked that feeling, if he was honest If it hadn't been for Sirius and his Alice-in-Wonderland view of logic, things could have been so different for each of them... And yet, Remus had only been glad of it for so short a time... the rest had always been so painful. But painful was the wrong word... it was more a case of senselessness. Of emptiness. Emptiness so much worse than pain, because pain it was possible to ignore and emptiness you were left with. And the emptiness was the space where Sirius had been... where he should have been... where he should still...

There was a time when they sat on the beach and Remus watched and watched the Sea and he could have sworn Sirius thought he was going mad. So when they played a silly teenage game later on - or the others played and Remus sat and engrossed himself in his thoughts, paying as little attention as he could get away with to the game - Sirius went out of his way to grab Remus's attention. When the bottle landed on him and he was told to kiss someone, Sirius picked Remus. He supposed Sirius thought he was helping - providing a distraction... Lily had told him later how the other boy had been bending the conversation in that direction, bringing up things which would give randy 'Randa ideas about dares for him... It worked, just not on Remus. Remus was left feeling completely lost, because that silly little game smashed the security glass behind which he'd been keeping the parts of those feelings that were too complicated to handle at sixteen and nine weeks. He didn't want to feel like that about his best friend. He liked the symptoms of feeling that way, he would admit that - at least to himself - but he never wanted to feel so much for that unruly child prodigy. Because once Sirius'd kissed him like that a little piece of the jigsaw fell into place and it was like a rubrics cube, eventually - once you've twisted it it's far too difficult to put things back to how they were.

So they sat there and Sirius threw himself upon him and mauled him in front of all of their friends and Remus was left to dust himself off and carry on as if nothing had happened. That was when Lily realised; she told him so. She could see a mile away what Sirius couldn't even see when they sat in his back garden at three o'clock in the morning, when the others had all gone to sleep in their various tents and we were all alone. Remus often wondered if the event of that evening had left him in shock. He certainly didn't feel as though he were living in the real world. He could still remember little insignificant things about it. The way the weight of the other boy's head felt in his lap when he made him lay back and look at 'his' star. The way his skin looked a cold blue in the moonlight... the little moonlight that there was. He could even remember staring up into the darkness and looking at those pinpricks of light and feeling so insignificant and small that he realised his own problems, whatever he was feeling, were little more than a sigh in a hurricane. He had no right to tell Sirius how he felt, because the other boy's obliviousness was something so rare in him that Remus knew he couldn't take it away... Just like then; sitting on the slope by the lake, he knew... Sirius had to learn his own way because it always was impossible to teach him.

~*~

The portrait hole slammed closed behind Harry as he strode into the Tower, his face a colour of prime beetroot, and drew attention from all over the common room. Ron and Hermione took one glance at each other and leapt out of their seats to follow him as he bolted up the stairs to the dorm.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Ron asked as they caught up with him, half way up the spiral staircase to the boys' dorm.

At his other side Hermione slipped a hand around his arm and tugged him closer. "Harry?"

Harry continued to walk up the stairs without responding, a small, bemused grin flickering repeatedly across his lips.

"Why are you bloody mute all of a sudden? What's happened?"

As one small mass they made their way into the fifth year dorms and Harry collapsed onto his bed, pulling a startled Hermione with him.

"Harry!" she cried, blushing and sitting up quickly, "What on Earth is the matter with you?"

Harry merely gave a sigh that disintegrated into a giggle.

"HARRY?"

Another sigh. And then a loud squawk as Ron tossed a glass of cold water into his face, causing him to sit up abruptly, gasping. "Ron!"

"Harry, what's the matter with you?" Ron demanded, holding the jug threateningly over the glass, "You're acting all soppy and weird!"

"Gavin..." Harry beamed stupidly, his eyes looking oddly unfocused.

"What about him?" Hermione asked carefully.

"He, um..." Harry's colour returned to deep beetroot, "he um... he sort of... kissed me."

There was half a moment's silence before both of Harry's friends burst out in torrents of questions and shocked exclamations.

"He did what?"

"Oh Harry - did anyone see?"

"I told you not to bloody kiss him!"

"What sort of kiss was it?"

"He's gonna think you're a right tart, now, isn't he?"

"What did you do? Did you kiss him back, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath and murmured "Well..."

"Come on - tell us!"

"I will if you give me a chance!" he protested.

"Don't look like it, what with you sitting there looking like half the Cherubim in Elysium have been using you as target practise!"

"Oh Ron! Give the poor boy a chance! Just because you've never had a serious crush on someone there's no need to spoil it for Harry!"

"Who says I haven't?" Ron returned defensively.

"Well have you?"

"Yes!"

"Fleur Delacour doesn't count."

"Who says I meant Fleur?"

"Well who else would it be?"

Ron scowled and his ears turned pink. "What about you? And Lockhart doesn't count, either!"

"I have!"

"What, your beloved Vikkie?"

"Shut up, Ron! I didn't go and see him, did I?"

"Only because your mum wouldn't let you!"

"It was not because of that!"

"Yes it bloody was!"

"I came to stay at yours!"

"Ahem. Excuse me? Can I carry on being excited about the fact someone just kissed me, please?"

Hermione gave Ron one last scowl and sat back next to Harry, straightening her robes primly. "Of course you can, Harry."

"Thanks."

"So you snogged him?" Ron shrugged with all the tact of a demolition ball, flopping down on his own bed. "When you've done it once you've done it. How can it be that different?"

"Oh - and when did you last kiss someone, Ron?" Hermione inquired in her best Little-Miss-Know-It-All voice. Ron and Harry both became rather subdued. She looked between them both carefully. Clearly, there was something she hadn't heard about. She'd find out - she always did. "But anyway, Harry - Gavin kissed you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning. They both waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. He merely sat there grinning like a mad man.

"When did Gavin kiss you?" Hermione prompted eventually.

"Just now..."

"And, um... where?"

"In the corridor... just in that little sort of alcove by the..."

"NO, WHERE, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!"

"Oh!" Harry's cheeks seemed to be working their way through every shade of pink in existence. "On, um... on the lips."

"On the lips?"

"Was there tongue?"

"RON!"

"What? Are you trying to say you don't want to know that?"

"I..."

"See? You sodding women faff around with all this nice, polite tactfulness and never get to the important bits! It's no bloody wonder you all talk so much - it must take a week to have a conversation about anything interesting!"

"Um... there wasn't any... 'tongue'..." Harry said a little loudly, as though trying to recapture their attention.

"Oh! Well what's the point in that, then?" Ron huffed, sounding disappointed.

"There's plenty of point, isn't there, Harry?" Hermione soothed, patting his shoulder.

"He held my hand, too-"

"Not everyone needs to concentrate on how far they can get their hand up a girl's blouse, you know!"

"Well, Gavin Cross certainly doesn't..."

"I said he... Oh never mind!" Harry stood up and made for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Harry?"

"I'm going to talk to Remus. At least he'll listen!"

Hermione turned to the red-haired boy and scowled at him. "Look what you've done!"

"What I've done? Well excuse me, but-"

Hermione stuck her nose in the air and followed Harry out, "Oh forget it, Ron, you're far too immature."

Harry was feeling more than a little offended by his friends' lack of interest. He made his way towards the Entrance Hall, sloped down the steps and headed towards the lake - the last place he'd seen Remus head. He wasn't even sure if Remus would still be there, but he needed to walk it off anyway. He and Gavin had remained hand in hand for the whole of the time they spent doing Harry's homework. When Harry had let go to catch a book that slipped off the table, his Seeker's instincts taking over, the other boy had reclaimed it the moment he had placed the book down. Gavin was a good teacher. He let Harry think and prompted him without giving him the full answers. Harry had really enjoyed himself - even more than at the Three Broomsticks - because the library was practically deserted and he effectively had Gavin all to himself.

When they left Gavin had wanted to help with Harry's books, but he had so many of his own to carry back, and Harry only had his bag with two in, that he had refused to allow it. Chivalry, it seemed, wasn't quite so dead after all. Even though Harry was sure it was meant to be towards the fairer sex...

Remus was definitely still sitting by the water's edge, but from the way he was slouching and resting his head on his forearms Harry was fairly certain he did not want to disturb him. He looked worryingly as though he were... weeping? No, surely not. Remus wasn't the sort of person to cry. He just... he wasn't and Harry was also incredibly sure that if he was crying - which he wouldn't be, because it was Remus and Remus didn't do things like that - he wouldn't want his godson interrupting him with his feeble gushing about Gavin Cross. Feeling somewhat concerned, Harry turned and headed back towards the castle.

He was about to drag his miserable self back up the marble staircase to the Tower to mope that no one cared about his blossoming love life, when he heard a calm drawl behind him. "What are you looking so morose about? Or have you just been told that we're allowed to speak after all?"

Oh no. Not now! Harry gave a small sigh. What have I done to deserve this? "Hello, Draco."

"Ooh, we are feeling sorry for ourselves, aren't we?"

"No."

"Tut tut. Really, Harry, you're an appalling liar."

"I am not!"

"Well you can believe what you like, but you're fooling yourself and absolutely no one else."

"Yeah, whatever..."

The blond boy reached out and grasped his elbow. "I'm getting a strange sense of déjà vu, here, aren't you?" he said carefully. "Come on. Come and tell me."

"I'd rather not..."

"Why?"

"Because it's personal and I don't think you need to know."

"You're putting me on a 'need to know' basis? After everything I told you? Well there's gratitude for you!" Draco replied, pouting a fraction.

"Trust me, Draco - you don't want to know this."

"Try me."

"Doesn't that somehow defeat the object?"

"Probably. But you are evidently very woebegone and I have some time on my hands and I'd rather like to bask in your misery by way of retribution for your display of 'spineless drippery' today."

"Oh I knew this was coming-"

"Well, best to get it out of the way, then, surely?"

"Sadist."

"I know. It comes with the rather fetching striped tie and matching ego. They are also giving an ounce of compassion to the most valued customers, and I feel like squandering it."

Harry couldn't help but smile at the other boy. He could be bizarrely self-effacing at times. "You're mental."

"And it has taken you four and a half years to realise this? My, you really are an oblivious little twit, aren't you?"

"Seriously, Draco, I'm not in the mood for this."

The other boy suddenly frowned a little, "What's the matter?"

"It's nothing - it's just that something really good happened to me and no one cares. Ron and Hermione are too busy squabbling and Remus really doesn't look like he needs company at the moment-"

"What about Black?"

"Um... no... I'd sort of need to prime Sirius a bit before I told him about this..."

"Then what about me?"

A silence stretched between them and Draco's eyes were fixed firmly on Harry's. He really couldn't look away. "You've already put up with enough from me."

"Likewise."

"Still, I'd really rather not. It's nothing personal, Draco, I just really don't..." Harry winced and gave a sigh, "You'll find out eventually."

"Then tell me now!"

"Look, I said no, alright?" Harry half-shouted in exasperation. "I don't want to talk about it any more anyway." He turned and continued up the stairs. The truth was, he did want to talk about it - he just didn't want to tell Draco that he was excited because Gavin had kissed him. He didn't want to hurt Draco by flaunting the fact that he liked someone else and he didn't want to jeopardise Gavin's safety in any way by stirring Draco's already eminent rage towards him.

Draco stood at the bottom of the marble staircase and watched him disappear onto the upper landing. He frowned. Had that stupid Welshman done something to upset him? He'd rip his teeth out if he had! But he said something good has happened to him and no one cares, not that something bad has happened! This, it had to be said, was very true. He probably just wanted to tell them how big and brave the lumpish thug was in the Three Broomsticks.

Draco snorted to himself and slowly began to back away and head down to the Dungeons. He'd show Cross that two could play at that game. Draco could give him twice the joy that idiot could, and for Harry's sake, he'd show him.

~*~

Sirius moved away from his window and onto his bed when it got dark. He lay gazing at the ceiling, his head resting on an arm folded behind it on the pillow. Remus had always been slightly odd, slightly quirky in his ways. He'd always run from feelings he didn't want to confront and yet always stood his ground when it came to his morals or scenarios most people would panic hopelessly in. That was part of the reason Sirius had always held him in such high regard. Remus was loyal. No only to his friends, but to his beliefs and his ideals. Remus had always acted upon what he thought was for the best and he usually had an acute perception of what that genuinely was. It was evidently these qualities that had made him a Gryffindor, for he was distinctly lacking in the house's trademark recklessness.

Even as a little boy, Remus had been careful and reserved. Sirius had thought him strange, at first. He had been silent for most of the first day they had met him. He hadn't eaten on the train and simply picked at the feast. No one could coax more than a nod or shake of the head from him and they were starting to think he was actually mute. But that night, when Peter had begun to sob because he missed his mum, it had been the tiny, fair-haired child who had climbed out of bed and comforted him. Sirius had listened and listened, but Remus's voice had been so quiet that he hadn't heard a word of it. James, the useless git, had fallen asleep practically straight away, and the next morning - and indeed at any point after that - Peter would only say that Remus had "Talked to me about lots of things". That was a quality Remus seemed to have innately. He could soothe and comfort people simply by talking about random and obtuse things. Just his presence was comforting, because he was such a stable, routine person. He was far from unflappable - too easily embarrassed and deeply shy as a teenager - but he had a distinct serenity about him. A serenity Sirius had always adored.

He had thought he knew Remus better than anyone did. He was always more open with Sirius than he was with the others. They were all very close, that couldn't be disputed, but it had seemed an almost defiant fact that no matter how regularly Sirius and Remus were described as polar-opposites, they always managed to get on incredibly well. They complemented each other. When he had kissed Remus on the beach it had been as part of a game, but it had felt so very obvious afterwards. He wondered why he hadn't done that sooner, and yet it took a further four years for him to even try again - a feat that even left Sirius himself impressed with his reserve.

When he finally had decided to follow up his actions during the game it had been at James's stag night. Aside from all the obligatory puns there had been obligatory gallons of alcohol and Sirius had made sure Remus consumed more than his fair share and more than he was strictly aware of. The logic being that if he tried anything and Remus knocked him back he could a) blame it on the drink and b) stood a good chance that Remus wouldn't remember by the morning anyway. Except Remus had responded - quite enthusiastically, it had to be said - and Sirius had thrown caution merrily to the wind and got rather more carried away that he had intended to.

Waking up the next morning in a flat he recognised and a lot less clothing than he would normally be wearing when he stayed there was quite a revelation. He realised that yes, apparently he was capable of embarrassment after all; that shame was like herpes - once you've been through it, it keeps on coming back - and that he really, really shouldn't have done that. From what he did remember of the previous night he was pretty sure he hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he prided himself on the fact that he hadn't! And yet, when Remus hadn't returned to the room - which served as both bedroom and living room in the tiny studio flat - after twenty minutes of his laying there in momentous silence he had climbed out of bed and got dressed. From previous experience he was fully aware of what that meant.

He had been about to leave, feeling, oddly, like a kicked puppy, but he had stopped by the kitchen door, as the bathroom had been completely empty, and there Remus was. Hunched up on the work surface, clutching a mug of tea and gazing out of the window.

"I'm going..."

Remus not looking at him. An awkward nod and a barely perceptible shrug. A feeling like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

"I'll... well I'll see you later..."

Nothing. Such a horrible, echo-y silence and then a tiny whispered "Okay." The way Remus hung his head... bowed with shame. Refusing to look away from the glass. Couldn't blame him, really... everyone always said not to get involved with friends. So clear that he thinks it was a mistake. Too obvious. Painfully so. Need to leave... leave before you say something idiotic.

The sound of the door slamming was not in his mind. He sat up sharply. Remus was back. Climbing off of the mattress he made his way to the bedroom door and descended the stairs. No Remus in the living room. Must be in the kitchen... And so he was.

"You've been ages," he said, stopping in the doorway to watch the other man make tea.

"Sorry."

"I didn't mean you have to apologise, Moony..."

"Good, because I'm not sure why I did." There was no emotion in it, not even any annoyance. Just a simple statement. An almost clinical detachment. "It isn't as if you're my mother, really, is it? And in any case, I'm a grown up now, am I not?"

"What are you talking about?" I don't understand you, Moo...

Nothing new there, then. Good night.

"Wait - don't go straight to bed! I want to talk to you..."

"Conflicting interests, there, Siri. It's been a long day, I'm very, very tired and all I really have to say is goodnight."

Sirius automatically stepped out of the way as Remus moved to the door. But why? For the merest moment Remus seemed to hesitate, but then he ducked his head and left the room.

~*~

Harry was drifting on the brink of sleep, floating in the narrow margin between slowly blurring thought and dream state. The sounds of Ron's senseless mumbling and Neville's snores melted into images of the conversation at the dinner table, of baby Mathias and what had become of him, of Zagam Joiner and what might have persuaded him to turn to the Dark side, of Penemue Malfoy and how she must have felt as she fell down those stairs... Suddenly Harry was falling down a wide stairwell into endless darkness, grasping for purchase to prevent him plummeting into the abyss before him and something reached out and caught his arm...

He woke with a jolt and found the hand was still clamped around his wrist. Too alarmed to cry out he merely gasped and backed away.

"Harry!" a voice whispered urgently, "Shhh - don't panic, it's me; it's Draco."

"Draco?" Harry blinked and rubbed his face, trying to alleviate some of the drowsiness. "What are you doing here? You'll get lynched if someone wakes up!"

"By those idiots?" Draco replied with a snort, "I hardly think so. Come on, get up."

"Get...? What for? It's..." he squinted at the watch Remus bought him for his birthday, holding it close to his face, "It's a quarter to two!"

"I know. Come on - you have to come, quickly."

Harry gave a groan and clambered out of bed, reaching for his dressing robe.

"Here." Draco held out Harry's glasses and wand for him to take.

"Thanks. This had better be worth it, though, Draco... I'm really tired."

"It is. You have to see it. It's amazing."

"What is?" Harry yawned, closing the door behind them, carefully.

Draco grinned at him in the dim glow from a lamp further down the steps, "You'll see. Come on."

Harry allowed himself to be led down the stairs and across the school towards the South Tower, whose upper rooms were uninhabited and stocked with furniture from other parts of the castle. They climbed the stairs to the very top and out onto the flat turret roof. The air was cool, but far from cold and even in his pyjamas and robe Harry was comfortably warm.

"So what now?" he asked, staring around at the empty space.

"Look," Draco instructed, turning him around and leading him to the edge.

Harry looked and over three hundred feet below, scattered across the moon-drenched lawns were nearly a dozen unicorns. They cantered around playing and a couple of gold-tinted young appeared to be racing each other across the flats. For a moment Harry was speechless, but he eventually managed a breathless "Wow..." and the blond boy gave a small laugh and said:

"I told you it was worth it."

"How did you know?" Harry asked in rapt bewilderment, "I mean... wow...!"

"I used to come up here a lot. They like moonlight. The moon is so bright tonight I knew they would be here."

Harry tore his eyes from the enchanting spectacle below. "Draco?" he said quietly, watching as the moon light also illuminated the other boy's translucent skin. Draco continued to gaze down at the horses, then he slowly turned to face the Gryffindor beside him.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to... to say I'm sorry. About earlier..."

The blond boy's silver eyes went blank, the briefly lingering wonder snapping into expressionlessness. He made a small sound to confirm that he was listening and turned back to the unicorns.

"I-in the Three Broomsticks... with Gavin... and..."

"What you do in your spare time is your prerogative," he said stiffly.

"I know, but Gavin just assumed you were there to have a go at me," Harry tried to explain, "He doesn't know - I haven't said anything - I wouldn't..."

"No, of course you wouldn't," Draco nodded, continuing to stare off into the distance. "You're good at 'not saying anything', aren't you? That really was a spectacular example of just how fantastic you are, in fact."

"What did you expect me to do?" Harry replied quietly, with a guilty feeling that there was plenty he could have done, "We're not supposed to be friends, it would have been pretty obvious we don't hate each other if I had defended you, wouldn't it?"

"Oh yes, of course - you're absolutely right."

"Really?" Harry asked uncertainly, confused by the other boy's amicable tone.

"Of course! We wouldn't want anything to jeopardise plans, would we?" he said lightly.

"N-no...no, of course not - I'm glad you... er... understand." Even as he said it, Harry felt there was something quintessentially improbable about the statement. For Draco to understand something that went against his interests was about as likely as... well, as likely as Sirius doing the same.

And then the answer came. "Of course; I understand how terribly unfortunate it would be for your charming new beau, with his appalling grammar, limited vocabulary and way with words akin to an inebriated Scrubwart to realise you were actually consorting with the enemy."

"My... beau? Draco, Gavin is not my 'beau' or my 'boyfriend' or my 'bloke' or anything else that begins with 'B' that happens to imply we're in a relationship!" Harry protested, his face warming rapidly. Not yet...

"Would 'lover' be more appropriate?" the other boy snapped, casting narrowed eyes towards him. "It certainly appeared imminent this afternoon."

"Lover? For God's sake, Draco - I'm fifteen, not fifty! A 'lover' is something adults have, not teenage boys! Christ..."

Draco merely shook his head and pulled out his cigarettes.

"Draco, what I do in my spare time is up to me - you said that yourself," Harry reminded him, "And if I..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, his eyes closed, "Draco, I like him. We get on really well and perhaps I'm doomed to make an idiot of myself, but perhaps things will be alright and I don't want you to hate him because of it. And I don't want you to hate me, either! I wish I felt the same for you, but things aren't that simple - I can't change it... and I don't want to pretend and waste your time. Our time... And I know you probably think I'm having a good laugh at your expense, don't you? But you're wrong. I don't. I just worry about you and I feel guilty for putting you through this..."

Draco continued to stare off in the direction of the family of unicorns.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

"Then for God's sake, please just say something! Call me an idiot, tell me you understand, just don't ignore me..."

Draco turned back to him and Harry wished he hadn't. The look in his eyes was so cold and hollow that he almost recoiled from it. "What do you want me to say, Harry? 'Oh I see, I wish you all the best for the future and I'd love to be bridesmaid at the wedding' just so you feel better? Would you like me to hex one of you into the middle of next week from sheer jealousy? Or perhaps I should just throw myself off the tower right now?"

To Harry's horror, the Slytherin climbed up on the turreted wall, both arms stretched wide, and teetered on the edge.

"Draco! What are you doing? Draco get down - please!"

He spun around, wobbling precariously. "Why? What do I have to lose?"

"Everything!"

"No - that's precisely it: I don't."

"Draco, please - you're scaring me half to death - please get down!" Harry pleaded, holding out his hand for Draco to take.

The blond boy gave a laugh and jumped back down onto the roof. "You don't honestly think I'd jump, do you? It'd be far too messy."

Harry sunk down against the stone. "You idiot, Malfoy. You bloody idiot..." That had possibly been the most idiotic and frightening thing he had ever seen anyone do. He was so certain the other boy would fall - deliberately or otherwise - and the landing would have been on jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. No one could have survived that.

"Did I scare you?"

"Yes. You know you did, you prat." Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his face. He was shaking.

"Well now you know how I feel every time you run off gallivanting after evil overlords." Carefully, brushing the dust away from the stone with the hem of Harry's robe, he sat down beside him.

"It's not like I have a choice, is it? And do you bloody mind!" he yanked the dusty robe hem away from the other boy.

"No, not at all - it's your robe. But, anyway - there's always a choice."

Harry made a small noise that may have been a snort of comic disbelief, but he said nothing.

"Harry," Draco's voice suddenly seemed to echo off the walls, "we agreed to be friends, didn't we?"

"Yeah..." Harry replied slowly.

"Then talk to me."

"Not this again!"

"Yes, this again, because you are quite obviously going through something quite drastic and I'd like to do my duty as a so-called friend and be there for you!"

Harry looked at the Slytherin in bewilderment. This was seriously, seriously unexpected. But, he supposed, he should have learned to expect the unexpected from Draco over the past couple of weeks. "Draco... look, I could tell you this I mean, I would if I thought you could help me, but-"

"How do you know I can't?"

"Well... " Harry took a deep breath and rubbed at his hair absently, "The thing is, I don't exactly need help... I could do with some advice, but I know that you can't help me with that, and besides I couldn't expect you to help me with this... It would be... insensitive."

The other boy said nothing for a moment, but then, in a slightly too calm voice, he murmured, "It's Gavin Cross, isn't it? Something has happened and you don't want to tell me about it because you're a kind, considerate Gryffindor and you're too thoughtful to risk breaking my poor little heart."

"Draco... I just...you've got enough on your mind and I really didn't want to tell you because I don't want you to feel bad about it... "

"Spare me the pity and just tell me what happened, Potter."

Harry hesitated, unsure whether he was doing the right thing, but the expectant look on the other boy's face was sufficient prompt to do so. "He... I mean, we'd been in the library for ages... I... God, I dunno, I just like spending time with him... He's just really nice and friendly... and... well, he held my hand and when we were walking back he just pulled me out of the main corridor and... " Harry's voice sank to a near-mumble, "hesortofkissedmeg'bye... "

Draco wasn't aware he even knew some of the expletives that seemed to stream through his head at that moment. "How... sweet... " he said through clenched teeth, forcing himself to smile.

"He is... " Harry smiled, blushing, "He's one of the nicest people I've ever met."

"Good for you." Die! Die, you bastard die! He began to meticulously plan Cross's demise in his head before he even realised he was doing it. No! Stop. No killing the opposition. Competition makes life fun. Deep breaths and remember - competition makes life fun, competition makes life fun, competition... is an insufferable pain in the neck when it's standing in your way, for pity's sake! I'll kill him! No. No, remember - no killing, humiliation is the key! Yes... I'll show the bullish git... I'll...

"Draco? Are you alright?"

"Hm? What?"

Harry's eyes were wide as he looked at him. "I knew I shouldn't have told you! God look, I'm sorry, just forget I told you, okay?"

"I'm fine." What was that curse that... hmm... Flaciditum? No... it was something like that, though... I'll look it up.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, I said! So... what was it... like? Did you kiss him properly, or-"

"Well it was only a little one... "

"How little, Harry?"

"Just sort of... um... "

"Show me."

"What? You mean... ?"

"On the back of your hand, you idiot."

"Oh!" Harry glanced at him nervously, then pressed his hand against his lips for a count of two.

"That's it?" You're a dead and impotent boy, Cross.

"Well no one's ever kissed me before!" Harry said with bashful indignation.

Bastard, bastard, bastard! "Well that's hardly something to write home about, is it?"

Harry looked at him with an almost quivering lip and asked, "S-so you don't think he likes me, then?"

The blond boy gazed back at him and realised that he really couldn't put the sickeningly soppy idiot through any worse than that. It would probably leave him scarred for life if he said no... So he took a breath and conceded, "I'd say he's interested to some degree, otherwise he wouldn't have kissed you-" bastard! "-or... held your hand, would he?" Why, why, why did I insist on knowing? WHY? The brilliant smile that spread across Harry's face, followed by a dreamy silence, had all the potential to leave Draco scarred himself. It wasn't fair it should be he who left that look on Harry's face! Not some semi-coherent prat from some over-blown province no one in their right mind ever went to!

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Inwardly, Draco screamed very loudly. "I don't know," he managed, wanting to grab the other boy and shake some sense into him. This was not how it should be! Couldn't Harry see what he was missing out on?

"I never used to, but... " Harry gave an irritating little giggle that made Draco want to slap him around the back of his head.

"Are you trying to say you think you're... in love with Cross?" he asked, willing Harry not to say yes because if he did he might just have to throttle him.

"No!" Harry said quickly and blushing so brightly that Draco fancied he could actually feel the heat coming off the other boy's face. "I just like him... but I wondered if... well, he's really keen on me and I've always noticed how he used to smile at me in the corridors... I was just wondering if you thought he might... y'know... "

Oh you sad, pathetic child! "Harry, Gavin Cross is sixteen years old. He is male. He is not feeling with anything remotely in the region of his ribcage."

"So you think he fancies me, then?" Harry asked hopefully.

Deep breaths, Draco, don't let it get to you. "I would say that was pretty obvious as half the school is woefully besotted with you."

"Not boys, though!"

"Harry, have you ever met Creepy Colin Creevey?"

"Colin doesn't fancy me!" Harry laughed, but quickly sobered when Draco merely cocked a knowing eyebrow at him. "Oh my God... you aren't joking, are you? Oh my God! Urgh! He looks about ten!"

"He's almost as tall as you."

"So? You're almost as tall as me!"

"Are you saying I look like a ten year old?"

"No... "

"I should hope not, Potter."

Harry laughed, "I'm not!"

"Good, I like you too much to have to torture you to death."

Instantly, Harry stopped laughing. "I... I forgot about that for a moment... God I'm sorry, Draco! I just totally forgot about it!"

"Harry, I asked."

"I know! But I shouldn't have told you I mean, I know how you... feel, don't I? I'm really sorry!"

Draco turned to face him. "Potter, there is no need to get into some stupid guilty panic about it. We agreed to be friends, didn't we? As a friend... Well I am obliged to listen."

"If we're friends why do keep calling me 'Potter' again, all of a sudden?"

Because it provides some sort of detachment? "Because when you're acting like an idiot it's easiest to maintain some sort of authority over your tragic, lovelorn brain when I don't call you Harry."

"But I don't understand how you can sit there and listen to me going on about him when... well... when you feel the way you do. I couldn't do it... It would drive me mad."

"I know."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course."

"No, really, are you going to be okay?"

"Well, now you come to mention it, I might ask Snape for a pass so I can obtain some good books on quick and painlessly fatal poisons from the Restricted Section."

"Don't even joke about that, Draco, it's not remotely funny."

"Oh go and borrow someone's sense of humour, will you?"

"Whose? 'Cause the only person who would find that funny is Snape. Or Sirius, possibly."

"Oh give me a little credit, will you? I am absolutely nothing like your godfather!" Draco told him insolently, folding his arms and scowling.

"Oh yes you are: impertinent, sarcastic, obstinate, bossy... "

"Pick all my positive points why don't you?"

"... irrepressible, rash, brave... "

"Alright, now you're making me sound like a Gryffindor... "

"... funny, intelligent, interesting... "

"Ah, now we're moving away from the Gryffindor thing and getting somewhere! Keep them coming, Potter, keep them coming my ego could do with a little polishing, come on... "

"... smug, arrogant... "

"Yet more good points... "

"I can't believe you call those good points!"

"But of course! What's the point in being a child prodigy in bastardom if you can't revel in it?"

"You're not that evil!" Harry scoffed, giving Draco a light hearted shove. "You're just pretending to be. I'd bet that on the quiet you sponsor bunnies at some local sanctuary and collect blown-glass ornaments."

"I do no such thing!" Draco scowled back, his bottom lip protruding, "Bunnies! I'll have you know I kicked a squirrel today."

"You did what?" Harry asked in horror.

"I kicked a squirrel. What's that look for? I was annoyed and... well I barely touched it, actually, but that's not the point - I would have done! And I hate blown glass."

"You wicked bugger! The poor defenceless squirrel'd done nothing to you!"

"Ah - you see, I am evil! The Great Evil Draco Malfoy - the grass dies where I tread, I cast the terror-shadow of doom, small woodland creatures quake in fear of my wrath!"

"You big idiot..."

"Well," Draco returned, with mock-bashfulness, "I don't like to brag..."

Harry burst into laughter in spite of himself. Draco was quite amusing when he wanted to be. "Why can't you be like this all the time?"

"Like what?"

"Nice. Friendly - likeable!"

"I don't know... I don't notice the difference, myself."

"Well it's there," Harry assured him. "Sometimes you're a total git, and other times you're... really good company. Fun... someone I could enjoy spending time with..."

"Oh really? And what would lover boy have to say about that, I wonder?"

"Gavin? He's not-"

"Yeah, yeah..."

"But... I mean, I don't think he'd mind at all. No one's really supposed to know we're friends, are they?"

"You fall back on that answer every single time!"

"I don't!"

"You do!"

"Well it's only because it's true, I mean - the reason no one's supposed to know is to keep you safe! It's not for my benefit, is it?"

"Are you sure you aren't ashamed to be associated with the little Death Eater turn-coat grass?"

"I couldn't care less! I associate with a half-giant, I live with an ex-convict and a werewolf and my best friends are, in your words, 'a pauper and a Mudblood'. I'd say discrimination at this stage would be a bit futile."

The blond boy gave a snort and smirked at him, shaking his head. "So you accept the charity case like a good little Gryffindor."

"Not at all. The 'charity case' came to me, remember? I was a git to the 'charity case'..."

"The charity case deserved it."

"Yeah, you did, but you've apologised, now. I can accept that much - although I wouldn't expect the others to be quite as willing."

"I never said I wanted their forgiveness," Draco pointed out sullenly.

"Well, that's lucky," Harry grinned, "because I think you'll have to save Ron's life and take up Muggle Studies before those two will accept you!"

"I wanted to do Muggle Studies, actually!" the other boy informed him triumphantly.

"You? Wanted to do... Muggle Studies?"

"I was curious. But I never bothered asking my father as there was no point. He would never have allowed it."

"Why doesn't that surprise me in the least?" Harry asked, frowning. "The more I hear about him, the more I'd like to punch his lights out."

"Well, when you've been brought up that way and you don't know any different it's all part and pass of every day existence. My whole life has been plotted out time and time again to fit his plans. Very little of this is down to my choices. Until now, any way."

"I admire you, you know," Harry told him honestly, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder, "because I've always just gone along with what was expected of me and you've really had to go against the grain and that must take a lot of guts. A lot more than just being swept along by The Bigger Picture..."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't touch me."

"What? Why not? I mean, you always say that, but why?"

"Because it makes it worse."

"Oh..."

"Look, don't start worrying over it, now-"

"I'm not, but I dunno... I'm just like that with everyone; I touch my friends like that all the time. The only time the Dursleys would touch me was to hit me, so..."

"Well I'd rather you didn't make up for it through me."

"Drac, I'm sorry, don't get-"

"I am not upset, my name does not finish at the 'c' and you should definitely stop apologising."

"Sorry."

The blond boy rolled his eyes, "Hopeless..."

"Draco, look, I just really want to be able to treat you like I would any of my other friends. I don't want to have to single you out over things like this."

"Well I'm sorry, Harry, but when you do that it just..." the other boy's voice fell to a murmur, "I just can't cope with that much. I can manage sitting here and I can manage listening to your... lovelorn woes... but I can't bear you touching me. You can't even begin to understand how it feels. I'm sorry, but I'd really rather you stopped."

"But-"

"Harry, listen to me, I am a teenage boy - rather like your little bit of rough but somewhat more sophisticated, if you can comprehend such a thing - and I have enough problems with my hormones without you encouraging them. Is that clear enough, or should I embarrass myself further?"

"I... um..."

Draco gave a slightly defeated sigh and pushed his hair out of his face. "I can't get used to you touching me. Do you understand that? I can't allow myself to. It's easier to isolate myself and retain my equilibrium that way. If your natural affection is oppressed by it then I am really very sorry, but you can call it a lesson in self control."

"But why would you want to isolate yourself?"

"Are you thick or something?"

"You keep telling me so, so I think I must be."

"Yes, you are thick. You're completely bloody thick and you're also about to start seeing the missing-link of a Keeper of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team! How hard is it to see why I don't want to make things any worse for myself than they already are?"

"Draco, you don't have to be here - or do this! You don't have to listen to me talking about him..."

"I want to," Draco replied softly, frowning and wrapping his arms around himself. "This is what friends do, isn't it? Not that I would know, of course, because Slytherins don't have friends."

"You don't generally fall in love with your friends, though, do you?" Harry replied equally gently, wishing more than ever that he could feel the same way. It was dreadful seeing the other boy so strained.

"No, but you can't help who you... fall for, either." He leaned his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes, "Allow me this, will you? Just let me manage my own way. I know myself better than you do and I am the one who knows how much I can cope with. If it all gets too much for my tragic little soul to take I assure you, you will be first to know."

"Alright, as long as you do, but I still feel massively guilty about it..."

"You have an unfortunate knack of making things harder for yourself. All that guilt and responsibility you keep claiming - leave some for everyone else!" Draco teased, smiling slightly.

"When everyone thinks you're 'the saviour of all men', as Gavin reckons I am, you sort of just assume the role. I've sort of got used to it," Harry shrugged, leaning his own head back against the stonework and turning slightly to look at him.

"When he says 'saviour of all men' he's not talking about The Boy Who Lived, you know."

"No? So what's he talking about?"

"He's talking about The Boy Who Lived to Make People Think Bad Thoughts."

Harry blushed and elbowed him, "Stop it!"

The blond boy elbowed him back sharply. "That hurt, you menace!" he pouted sullenly. "You're just not content with the emotional pain, are you? You insist on physical trauma, too! And it's true, anyway."

"I don't make anyone think 'bad thoughts'!" Harry protested, rubbing his side. There was sardonic smirk from the other boy and Harry suddenly doubted his own statement. Oh my life... "Could you, sort of... promise never tell me what that look means, please?"

"Look?"

"Yes! That... that look!"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You bloody do, you git! It's the look that really makes me wonder just what's going on in your head once the lights go out!"

Draco gaped at him in graceless indignation. "Harry James Potter!" he gasped eventually, "I cannot believe you would allude to something so vulgar! That is absolutely disgusting!"

"That was a delicate way of saying it, compared to what I've heard the Twins say."

"Well I would expect it of them, but you! I thought you were a civilised human being! I will have you know, that should I be so primitive and lascivious - which I am not - the chances of you appearing in any bawdy fantasies are now considerably diminished!"

"What a shame..." Harry chuckled, delighted at the indignation in the other boy's voice, "but I don't believe a bit of it."

"Are you not only implying that I indulge auto-eroticism on a regular basis, but also that I lie about it?" he practically squealed, positively seething with emotion, now.

"Oh no, Draco, not in the slightest, but I'd bet my broomstick you're pinker than monkeys bum at the moment."

The other boy's glowering faltered. "I am not," he replied, pouting.

"Rubbish. I bet you're really blushing. It would give it all away, you know."

"I am not blushing!"

"Yes you are, I can tell."

Draco gave him a stubborn scowl and snatched up his hands, pressing one to his own face and the other to Harry's. "You see?" he demanded, "I am no hotter than you!"

After a moment of Harry's silence the blond boy seemed to realise what he was doing and withdrew his hands carefully. The green eyes in front of him were fixed on his and he wanted to look away but found that he honestly couldn't. "You've got really soft skin," the Gryffindor mumbled, "better than Hermione's..."

"I... I..." Of all the times for his voice to desert him, Draco's had to do it now. The part of his mind that seemed to be observing the situation remotely cursed it very loudly. "I... suppose I'll take that as, um... a... um..." The remote part of Draco's mind hacked at it's wrists with the squirrel he had kicked earlier. WHY NOW? WHY? "...a condiment. Compliment! I'll take it as a compliment. Perhaps."

Harry gave him a strange, crooked smile, which Draco couldn't identify as either amusement or endearment. Either way he could do with a stray lightening bolt of the Gods to kill him where he sat at that precise moment.

"I meant it as a compliment."

Wrong blasted lightening, you sadists!

"Do you mind if I...?" Harry outstretched his hand and brushed his fingers against the other boy's face.

Draco's breath got clogged somewhere in his chest. No! I can't die! I can't suffocate from shock now!

"You've got honestly great skin."

Draco made a humiliating gurgle before he managed to reply, "Thanks." I hate you. I hate all of you. Why pick on me now?

"Drac?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you bring me here?"

Draco took a deep breath and mentally Spell-o-Taped his composure back together. No more touching - ever. "You were stressed out earlier," he forced himself to shrug, "I wanted to cheer you up."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"It worked."

Draco felt a flutter of pride in his stomach. "Good."

Harry yawned and settled back down against the wall.

"Are you tired? We could go back inside, if you'd like."

"Nah," Harry yawned again, "it's a nice night. Might as well stay here for a while..."

Draco merely nodded and looked up at the stars above them. He liked the stars. They were so big and yet they seemed so small. They gave him hope, because they weren't what they seemed. To the worlds beneath them they appeared tiny, so harmless and delicate, but in truth they were catastrophically powerful and incomprehensibly huge. Maybe they were an example. Draco felt so small and inconsequential in the eyes of the world, but he felt as though he could be so much more if people looked closer. Until they did, though, he would remain small and innocent and fascinate from afar.

He watched as they moved above him, as the moon shifted across the sky. It didn't occur to him that this must have taken a considerable length of time and he didn't even notice when Harry's weight shifted to his shoulder. Harry was asleep, his glasses knocked squiff and his hair splayed over the Slytherin's robe. When Draco turned to look he saw the moonlight and the minuscule reflections of the stars in his glasses. It somehow seemed more eloquent than anything he could have put into words himself. He was really rather sure he needed some sleep; desperately so. But he couldn't move. After all he said to the other boy earlier, having him there, the contact and the warmth, felt so safe. It was nearly everything he wanted. It would be so very easy, in that moment, to wrap his arms around the other boy or press his lips to the top of his head. But he respected Harry too much to abuse his innocent trust like that, even if Harry would never know.